Prompt 7: Thirsty
Warning(s): Angst and implied character death.
Six-year-old Ryeowook struggled to walk, finding his legs turning to jelly. His eyes were threatening to close, and he kept on gasping as tears fell down his face, his shoulders shrugged up to his ears as he shivered, his arms crossed in a vain attempt to get warmer. The rain pounded down harder, until Ryeowook wasn't even sure which droplets were the rain water and which droplets were his tears, and he felt like passing out.
Running away from home hadn't been a wise decision after all.
But it was the only answer Ryeowook had at the time. He couldn't go back home to his father, who beat him every day, and his mother, who simply watched, pale-faced and scared. Glad that it wasn't her who her husband was hitting, and certainly not eager to stop her husband any time soon. But Ryeowook didn't hold it against her; his father was scary, and very strong. No one wanted to get on his bad side, especially when he was really angry, for his punch and kicks seemed to hurt more, and he continued with the beating for an extra hour or so than usual.
Ryeowook knew this from experience, of course.
"Momma..." he whispered, his voice almost begging, as he continued to stagger on. He was so thirsty that he opened his dry mouth and drank the rain water that fell into his mouth eagerly, sobbing loudly between gulps.
He just wanted to go home.
But he couldn't, for if he did, his father would beat him for hours. Maybe he'd even end up killing him. And Ryeowook didn't want to go back home if that was what was waiting for him.
So onward he went, stumbling about along the dark sidewalk, the stars twinkling above doing nothing to comfort him, though they always had managed to whenever Ryeowook sat on the roof of his house after a beating, sore and bruised all over. They did nothing to make him feel better now, however, and the hopelessness was starting to get to him.
At this point, he just wished he could die. Maybe a car could swerve off the road and run right over him. Maybe lightning could start to thunder down, and a stray bolt could electrify him. Maybe a murderer could come and stab him or shoot him or something.
But none of these things happened. And on Ryeowook continued to walk, until eventually he fell onto his knees, unable to walk anymore, and laid down on the cold floor floor. He subconsciously curled up into a ball, his eyelids heavy, and fell asleep, and he dreamed of parents who loved him and protected him, and a house that felt like a home rather than a prison.
It was a dream he never wished to wake up from.
Thankfully, Ryeowook never really did wake up.
Word count: 475.
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